


Kissing Lessons

by Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, everyone loves a kissing lessons trope, just fluff, marius my disaster bi child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 09:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15946583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome/pseuds/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome
Summary: Marius decides he needs kissing lessons from Courfeyrac before attempting to kiss Cosette... and it turns out he enjoys kissing both of them a great deal. Happy sort of fluff, no real conflict.Canon Era (but playing very loose with setting and timeline details), PG rated (for kissing) no death, no TWs





	Kissing Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> From a drabble request over on tumblr. Goodness knows I'm incapable of being short. And I might have a second chapter to this, if you ask very nicely :)

Marius paced nervously in the apartment he shared with Courfeyrac. Well, Courfeyrac would say they shared. Because the young man was kind and good and generous. A true gentleman in every sense of the word. Courfeyrac would never dream of implying to anyone, no matter how true it was, that Marius simply lived in the apartment Courfeyrac paid for. Marius had no more right to call it home than a mouse might.

They did have a mouse, a tiny darting guest that appeared when either of them forgot to put away the morning’s bread, but neither young man had the coldheartedness required to set a trap.

Marius rather envied the mouse’s ability to hide, as he waited for Courfeyrac to return from class. He was terrified of asking his friend for further help, and yet, he greatly needed the help.

He was always in need of help, always asking, never offering, and it made him feel more wretched by the day.

The door clicked open. Courfeyrac smiled upon seeing Marius. “Ah! It is the abbot! All done with the work for the day?”

“I, um, yes.”

Courfeyrac blinked, noticing the glass full of cut flowers, and the old blanket draped over the simple table they’d hauled up from a corner one day. “Why, are there flowers on the table? How lovely! And here, I have dinner to go with them.”

He’d picked them today, taking only what he was allowed when he asked various owners as he passed by the homes. He didn’t wish to steal, but he had no money to offer his friend any sort of thank you. “You don’t have to share…”

“Nonsense. A meal shared with friends imparts a seasoning no chef can add.” Courfeyrac laid out the fresh cheese, grapes, and pastries he’d picked up on his walk home. “Tell me what you translated today, if it is at all interesting. If it is dry, do make something up instead.”

Marius laughed, all his nerves forgotten. Courfeyrac had a way of doing that, charming out the fear from him, like a man might sing a snake out of a basket. It was in that spirit, that late at night, Marius finally asked his request. “Courfeyrac. I, I must ask your assistance once more.”

“Anything, Marius.” He reached out, to touch his hand. “I have meant what I said. You are a dear friend to me. What I have is yours.”

“Will you…” Marius wet his lips. “I.. well…”

“What on earth has you so flustered?” Courfeyrac laughed and reached behind him. “Here. Let’s have some wine. Grantaire left a bottle the last time he visited.”

Well, he’d more so passed out without finishing all his wine, but Courfeyrac considered it all the same thing, Marius supposed. It was a kinder way of looking at the matter, certainly.

He uncorked the bottle and poured them each a glass. The wine stems were elegant, real crystal. One of the few things Courfeyrac had yet to pawn, because, according to him, they had belonged to a great aunt he had been very fond of.

That made Marius feel guilty, thinking of his own aunt he’d not spoken to since he’d left the house he’d grown up in. But he could not stay there, not with a Grandfather who had lied and hidden things from him. Which was why he must not hide things from his friend. He took a sip. “I was wondering if you might give me lessons in kissing.”

It was hard to say, harder still to keep looking at his friend. Courfeyrac was so handsome, so often joking of his collection of women, of course he’d be an expert at the craft of kissing. But who would ever want to kiss a wretch of a man like Marius?

Courfeyrac’s eyes lit up, the only change of his expression. He did not laugh, nor turn angry. Instead, he said, “do go on, my friend.”

“It’s only. Well. I’ve met her. The Lark! Cosette. Her name’s not Ursula. I was wrong.”

“A blessing indeed.”

Marius blushed, and drank more wine, which only served to bring color higher on his cheeks. “And I realized. Well, I’ve never kissed a soul.”

“One normally kisses another’s lips, dear lord of bubbleland. Not their soul.”

“Yes, yes, I know.”

“Oh? I thought you were not the expert on this topic.”

“It’s an expression of speech is all I meant.”

“Another point to consider is that when one is kissing, one is not often speaking at the same time.”

“Felix Jean-Luc Courfeyrac, you are driving me mad!” Marius cried, half-laughing, half shouting.

Then, quite suddenly, the way lightening breaks across a grey sky, something happened. His friend leaned across the small table, tugged on Marius’s collar, and when he was still laughing, kissed him.

Marius froze, but only for a moment. Because this, this felt as right as laughing, as sweet as the wine still clinging to both their lips. His hand slipped into Courfeyrac’s auburn curls, holding him there, holding them together as they kissed. It stayed chaste, for all the heat behind it, Courfeyrac never pushing further than lips against lips.

And then, his kiss trailed lower. Over Marius’s jaw, down the side of his neck. His breath hitched, all thoughts of words forgotten.

Courfeyrac pressed one more kiss to the bit of Marius’s exposed collarbone, and then, sat back in his chair. “How’s that for a lesson?” he said, with all the pride of a cat who’d caught a mouse.

Marius, if he had been able to, might have scurried away into a hiding hole just like a mouse. “It was…”

“Too much?”

“Just right,” he admitted, softly, shyly, because he felt so silly to want to kiss Courfeyrac again, when the whole goal had been to learn to kiss Cosette. He wanted to toy with those copper curls that now hung messily in Courfeyrac’s eyes, the way he’d previously only dreamed of kissing Cosette’s golden locks.

“I’m happy to help.”

They finished the wine in silence, and at the end of the night, Courfeyrac stood first. He came to Marius’s chair, and gently, tilted his head up as he bent down. Their lips met one more time, as soft as  dawn’s colors might paint the night sky. “goodnight, kissing student,” he said with a smile.

“Good—good night, my friend and teacher.”

“Friend always,” he winked. “Teacher’s just a game.”

But it hadn’t felt like a game at all. It had all felt so lovely and so serious.

 

The next day, Marius waited once more with flowers he hadn’t been able to buy, a racing heart and soaring hopes. Only this time it was in the sacred dark of Cosette’s garden, everything a lush shade of violet or blue in the night.

Everything except Cosette, who moved toward him as a vision of white like snow and golden hair like a candle’s flame. She wore it down, as she must have snuck out of bed to see him.

Softly, she approached, her bare feet making no sound in the dew-wet grass. She sat next to him on the bench, and took his hand between hers.

They talked, though of what, Marius would never be able to remember. Everything she told him was wonderful, perfect, pure poetry. And everything he said in return was clumsy, useless, silly. But at least he made her laugh, and that was worth every blushing, stammered line.

“So, Marius,” she said his first name like the most delightful pastry in the best bakery in all of Paris, sweet and warm and rich. “are you going to kiss me tonight?”

He spluttered. She laughed, her head thrown back, her eyes crinkled at the corners. There was a little wildness in her, a sense that at any moment, she might join the fairies in a dance or float away to the moon to live there.

It was a complement to Courfeyrac’s own urban charm. He wasn’t the wild of a sudden summer storm, but instead the delight of finding a curving street to walk down that one had yet to explore in the city. Cosette was all things of nature; butterflies fluttering in the hazy air and sunlight dappling wet leaves and sudden-blooming flowers. Courfeyrac was the city; dance parlor music floating over the sounds of the street below, a flickering candle in a friendly window, and the flowers one purchases from a merchant who slips a few extra roses in with a wink.

Marius had never considered it before, how alike his two most dear companions were. It made him smile.

He was still smiling when Cosette kissed him.

The kiss was pure and gentle, a little unsure, but delightful. This time, Marius’s hands stayed clasped between Cosette’s, though he did imagine sinking them in all the richness of her tumble of golden locks. Next kiss perhaps.

Because surely there would be another one. With the way she looked at him when they pulled apart for air, with the way his heart raced, he knew he could kiss her every night for eternity, and still long to kiss her again. “I though you wanted me to kiss you,” he teased gently.

“You took too long,” She squeezed his hand. “I am very fond of you, Marius Pontmercy.”

“And I you,” this time, the sweetness of a kiss melted like spun sugar, heating between them, their hands roving over the clothing separating them.

When they were finally done kissing, dawn had broken. “You must hurry back inside,” he whispered to her, his voice hoarse. She nodded, though she had to steal one more soft kiss, before darting inside. Once she was gone, he climbed over the fence and headed back to Courfeyrac’s apartment.

He arrived so late that Courfeyrac was heading to class as he opened the door. The two froze in the doorway, and Courfeyrac leaned up on tiptoes to kiss Marius. “Morning!” he said cheerfully, before bounding out the door.

Marius blinked. Courfeyrac had kissed him, knowing full well he’d been out kissing Cosette all night.

And Marius had… liked it.

He groaned and flopped onto the extra mattress in the room, closing his eyes. Wishing sleep would come, but instead, the thoughts had He’d liked kissing Courfeyrac that night. The brush of his stubble against Marius’s cheek, his confident way of drawing out the kiss.

But he’d also liked kissing Cosette. Her gentle, soft insistence. The way her lips felt like petals. Her golden hair tangled in his hands.

Gold. Copper. Friendship. Love. Daylight and Nightime. A thousand contrasts, a thousand similarities between them. No way to choose. Not at all.

What was he to do? He had nothing to offer either of them, and yet, liked them both a great deal. There was only one thing to do, he decided, and that was to talk to them both.

 

Cosette had luckily snuck away for an afternoon walk. Sometimes, she was able to accompany those of the convent school who still came to call on a short walk. And as they were all girls with secrets of their own, none seemed to mind overmuch if she chased after a particularly interesting beetle, right into the secret spot where Marius often read in the Luxembourg gardens. Shyly, and with the lowest voice, Marius whispered, “I love you, you know.”

“And you know you have all my heart, and all my love.” Her hand in his was its own sort of a kiss.

“But what if… what if I loved another as well?” He tried out the words, tasted each, a new flavor, and found them true. He did love another. Not in the same way he loved Cosette, no, but one could love both city and nature, both gold and copper, both day and night.

She titled her head. “Well, I suppose the charitable thing to do would be for me to love them as well.”

Marius laughed suddenly. Amazed at how easy it was for her to say. His hands went to her narrow waist and he spun her around the path. “You mean it?”

“I do. I look forward to meeting this other beloved some day, perhaps.” She leaned up, ignoring the fact that they were very nearly in the public eye, and kissed him softly. It was a kiss to keep them together, through all things the world might hold. “But I will always have a place only for you in my nights.”

With such bold words, all the rest of Marius’s thoughts nearly died. It was a miracle he was able to walk away from her, watched as she caught up with the other girls from the school she had attended, chattering happily with them.

There. One more talk, and it would be all settled.

 

Of course, somehow Courfeyrac turned talking into kisses that night. The dashing young man had a way of doing that, Marius realized. As if he spoke better with touch than any words would allow. All he knew was they’d been eating, and then, when the meal was done, Courfeyrac had lifted him onto the old oak table, and kissed him, leaning between Marius’s legs to press closer, closer.

“I like these lessons,” Courfeyrac smiled. “I’ve never considered being a teach before. Thank you, my friend, for this.”

“And thank you.” He whispered. “I… I like kissing you a great deal. More than a mere lesson would justify.” There. A shy truth, offered despite the risks to the friendship.

“I know.”

Marius paused, an auburn curl trapped between his fingers. “And you don’t mind?”

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages, you daft man.” Courfeyrac laughed. “I was all too happy to play teacher and find such a willing student.”

The blush made it so words were almost impossible. “But I also like kissing Cosette, a great deal.”

“Ah! So you’ve woo’d her and won her! Excellent!”

“Felix.” He said Courfeyrac’s given name sternly, and caught the hand wandering its way down Marius’s shirtfront. “I am not… I am not one to add a woman to a collection. I love her.”

“I am well aware of that.” Courfeyrac said. “And rumors of my collection are greatly exaggerated, my dear.” He pulled away, carefully, moving to adjust Marius’s collar, his coat, his shirt, as if ensuring no traces of the kissing remained.

“I didn’t mean to sound cross….”

“Nor did I.” Courfeyrac’s smile seemed a little sad. It hurt to realize he’d so botched the conversation. It had gone so well with Cosette he’d had hope…

Courfeyrac kept talking. “In fact, since you’ve moved in, there is only one bird I’ve so wanted to catch, with net or with open palm, that I’ve neglected even the thought of maintaining a collection.”

“Who… who is she?” Marius stood on unsteady feet.

“Ask rather. Who is he?” Courfeyrac leaned up and kissed him. This time it was slow, warming him from his toes to his still-blushing cheeks. It was a kiss to build a future upon. “I have no problem with you loving another, Marius. My heart is large enough for you both.”

And Marius found, so was his.


End file.
